


Ghost Inside

by qaolu



Category: The Haunting of Bly Manor (TV)
Genre: AU Where Dani gets an exorcism and her and Jamie are gay forever, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Rewrite, F/F, Post-Canon Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27140632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qaolu/pseuds/qaolu
Summary: On the night before Dani has to leave, her hands wrapped around her lover’s neck, Jamie has an idea. A crazy, impossible kind of idea. If Viola could enter, could she be forced to leave?Jamie bets on a moonflower that an exorcism might work.
Relationships: Dani Clayton/Jamie, Hannah Grose/Owen Sharma
Comments: 16
Kudos: 199





	Ghost Inside

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the deleted scene and my broken heart.  
> I actually haven't stopped thinking about Dani and Jamie since finishing the series. This is my way of getting everything out. Please send help in the form of playlists or fanfiction.  
> Enjoy the lovely homoerotic exorcism.

When Jamie looks at Dani, her beloved’s heterochromatic eyes fluttering open, she wonders how empty the bed might feel if one day her lover did not awake beside her. If there was a letter on the bedside table, scrawled in Dani’s feminine prose, her heart would break and keep the hollow shape of her body warm against the sheets. If there was a goodbye, a final hush of a creaking door settling into position, bidding farewell to their life together, Jamie would simply crack like the walls were crumbling. She’d go to fix the jagged piece of her heart where Dani left, only to find nothing there, just like at Bly Manor. Would Dani look back, eyeing the sleeping frame of the gardener under the blankets? Would she change her mind if somehow, for some reason, Jamie woke up and grabbed her arm, begging her to stay?

“Please,” she’d plead, eyes welling with tears, “You don’t have to do this, Poppins.”

“I’m gone and she’s here,” Dani would answer, a million worlds away, “She’s here and you could be dead.”

Jamie shook her head to stir the thoughts from her mind. There _had_ to be a solution.

...Right?

“Jamie,” Dani prodded her lightly, biting her lip, “You okay? Thought I’d lost you.”

The words carve out a hole in Jamie’s composure, the edifice crumbling. _That’s my line._

“Doing just fine,” she lied through clenched teeth, a single tear making its presence known, “How are you feeling?”

“She’s stronger today,” Dani shuffled uncomfortably, casting a glance downwards.

Knowing she had to be even stronger for the both of them, the _three_ of them, Jamie sighed before reaching up to nuzzle her nose to her wife’s. There had to be a way out of this. The past few months had been composed of so many _one day at a time_ ’s that each morning, watching the sunlight splay over Dani’s face, Jamie worried she would not be there the next one. There were too many nights spent on bathroom floors alongside Dani, reassuring and cradling her face within weathered hands. Too many afternoons where Dani, freed from looking over her shoulder to find a man with blazing glasses, had to cover mirrors again so Viola did not stare back. The rage and anger building underneath her skin, the skin Jamie wanted to tenderly kiss until they grew old together, was volatile. It wreaked everything in its path, breaking down all structure. One day they were selling flowers, kissing in the back room, and the next they were mutually weary of reflections. Jamie did not mind doing the dishes, but hated the jump, the jittering and calamity that happened when Viola stared deep into Dani’s soul. Maybe one day, she’d hope to find Dani looking back, and that would ease the pain. She had to be tough enough to brave it for them both, as Dani was courageous with the Lady of the Lake whispering devilish intentions behind her multicolored eyes. Jamie knew that today would be another battle, again.

“You should go back to sleep,” Jamie kissed her cheek, “I have an idea. I have to go out for a few hours, alright? I’ll be back and we can cuddle on the couch. How’s that sound?”

“Alright,” Dani managed a soft smile, “Be safe.”

 _Only if you will be, too_ , Jamie thought to herself. The dark circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep seemed deeper, skin otherwise paler, thin outlines of mascara where tears frequented still stained on light flesh. It was only a few nights ago where the bath overfilled, water leaking through the apartment, Dani somehow smaller than ever before. What used to fill her with existential dread was now as common as looking over one’s shoulder to see a familiar, friendly face. Viola had done considerable damage to her fortitude, body worn and frail. Jamie was determined to find Dani and bring her back to the surface, away from the glassy top of the lake. A shiver went down her spine as she put on her boots then walked out of the door.

The library was down the street from the shop, and it was early enough that there wouldn’t be many people around. She hoped to have a couple hours to herself, even in a place that sometimes reminded her of dead plants. Trees made books, their existences penned to pages, but today they had a very special purpose. She nodded to the librarian, exchanged pleasantries and headed for the aisle where all of the books lacking a proper genre went to ensure a peaceful slumber untouched by the masses.

Jamie found a stool and sat down, legs crossed. Skimming the alphabetized sections, her finger landed on one with a catching title.

The book was perfect. It was _All About Exorcisms_ by Eve Dretti, a dusty old guide on how to expel demons from bodies. Demons, not ghosts. Jamie knew that while they were not the same, by principle, one _should_ be able to get a loathsome being out from inside the person she loved most. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. Of course, she’d need a priest and a whole bunch of other tools. That rarely mattered to her, in the moment. When Jamie flipped through the pages, feeling that Viola was a demon in personality rather than actuality, she felt a surge of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this could work. The thought only came to her as she stared at the mere outline of the woman who gave her pure joy, a form frayed by ghostly interference. What if that woman abandoned to the murky depths of the Bly Manor Lake could leave their lives, free to roam the depths of hell or a different purgatory? Possibilities brimmed. She might need some old friends to help, though.

If anyone knew where to find a priest, it was the newly-sober Henry Wingrave.

“Are you sure?” Dani looked rather dumbfounded, “Jamie, I-I don’t know...”

“If you’re asking if I’m sure, then ya I’m sure,” she blinked in response, “Your opinion matters more, love.”

“What if something goes wrong?” Dani looked away, “I couldn’t risk hurting you or anyone else. I know where my choice will take me and have from the start. I decided that to save Flora that I would live with this until it’s no longer possible.”

“Poppins,” Jamie grabbed her hands, “We’ve had ten years together. Each day is a blessing. Remember how we thought Christmas was far away and now we’re in a civil union? Laws be damned, we’re together. I know that was important, what you did.”

“And they don’t even remember it,” Dani whispered.

“Hey, hey,” Jamie tilted her chin upwards, left hand still rubbing circles over the other’s knuckles, “You don’t have to save everyone but yourself. You already did, and the kids are better for it. Now let me save you.”

“You already did,” Dani sniffled, meeting her wife’s gaze again, “Okay. I’ll let you try. Just promise me that if it gets dangerous, we’ll stop immediately. I would not be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jamie reassured, and hoped she meant it if only for Dani’s sake.

Her aching heart was caught in her throat when she called Owen. It beat so loud, she thought it might flutter away, eager antennae finding its resting place on one of their apartment’s many flowers. Jamie knew he might not answer, because he was incredibly busy. Long hours at A Batter Place organizing menus under the watchful eyes of Hannah’s portrait, though, meant that his feelings would surely resonate with hers. He knew what it was like to see someone you love slip away or vanish entirely. Jamie was thankful she had years with hers rather than only a few of them, mutually engaged but blissfully unaware of the other’s feelings. She wondered what it was like to see the person he loved the most at the bottom of a well, body decomposing. Then, she paused; that’s what it was like to see Dani slowly fade away, worn from the days living for two.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Owen, ya sweet thing,” Jamie teased, her tension easing, “It’s Jamie.”

“ _What_ a surprise,” Owen hoped his words conveyed the subtle smile on his face, “How are things? Please tell me good news. How’s Dani since we last talked?”

“Well,” Jamie fought the urge to tap her feet anxiously, “I got a plan, Owen. To save her.”

“One second,” Owen fidgeted on the other end, “Let me find a quiet place. What do you mean? It’s gotten worse?”

“Pretty bad,” Jamie took a breath, “But I need your help. I’ve got a plan to save my girl. I just need some help from old friends.”

 _Old friends_. It felt like ages ago when they all walked the halls of Bly Manor together, little children and lingering ghosts at their heels. Nights spent in a kitchen drinking wine only turned into nights running away from the darkness of the house. Escaping to the shadows, about half of them made it out in one piece. Owen, shattered inside. Hannah, onto a better place. The children, seemingly scarred, forgot everything when Henry took them to America. It was probably for the best. Dani rode off with another soul trapped inside her body, eyes now turned their characteristic mix of striking ruby and cobalt. Jamie offered to keep her company, which might have been the only time she cared for someone more than flowers. Their love was a moonflower, supposed to be rare and fleeting, but she wanted to have it last forever. If one good thing happened from Bly Manor, it was their unbreakable bond. True romance stems from friendships and once that line became blurred, Jamie knew. Her and Poppins had a problem.

“And that would be me and...” Owen trailed off, bracing for impact. _Who else was left_? Flora and Miles were the phantoms who no longer remembered faces, onto new lives away from the trauma the others endured. Jamie knew it was stupid to lead with that.

“Well,” she stomped her foot, “I was going to ask Henry to put me in touch with a priest. To do, you know. An exorcism.”

A loud crash from the phone signaled that Owen almost fell over.

“You want to fuck with spirits again, Jamie?” his voice was barely audible, “After all we’ve been through?”

“Yes,” Jamie was slightly pissed now, “I live every day with a spirit inside the girl of my dreams. I want you by my side, cause you’re the only one who understands, and I want you to be there with me when a creepy old man speaks some shite Latin and has Dani puke up her asshole tenant who leaves a mess but doesn’t pay the rent.”

That earned a signature chuckle from Owen. She had a knack for diffusing the situation.

“What you two have is _boo_ tiful,” he regretted what he said immediately, the pun landing shoddily in its oversea journey to Vermont. “I would need someone to oversee the restaurant, though. You guys are in America. That’ll take a day or two for me to get things sorted out and fly over. Are you sure about this?”

“More than anything in the world,” Jamie responded, “I’ll do whatever it takes. Even endure your dad jokes, but only if they make Dani smile. She needs more happiness.”

“You want the Owen specialty, you’ll get it,” he promised, “See you soon, Jamie. Take good care of her and let me know what Henry says. I bet five bucks that he might have a heart attack or something when you broach the subject. Good luck.”

Luck did not exist in reality, as far as Bly Manor was concerned.

The call with Henry didn’t go as smoothly.

“You want me to _what_?”

 _Fuck,_ Jamie braced for impact.

“You know a lot of priests now, I reckon,” she continued, “Born-again Christian things. Do you know one who could perform an exorcism?”

“Jamie, Jamie,” Henry caught up to his own thoughts, “We haven’t talked in who knows how long, and you want me to get you a man who could get the ghost out of your wife?”

“Or a woman, but precisely,” Jamie shrugged, “C’mon Henry, you kind of owe her. She saved little Flora, who’s getting all grown up now, who doesn’t remember a thing. She risked everything for that girl, and because we’re the help, she doesn’t remember us. Dani sacrificed the rest of her life for her,” she swiped her tongue over her bottom lip, “Please. Every day I lose more of her. I’ll pay you anything you want.”

That earned a weak laugh from her former boss. Seemed money wasn’t the issue. For a moment, Jamie had forgotten she’d killed Henry too, only resurrected by the hands of Owen. He definitely would have feelings on the subject.

“You wouldn’t have to pay me,” Henry said, “That’s the least of my concerns. That woman, though...what happens if she gets out? Does she go back to Bly? Have you even thought of if she gets released back into the world?”

“Of course I’ve thought about that,” Jamie was getting annoyed, “The whole point is to put her soul to rest. Damn thing’s been angry for so long, she doesn’t know where to go. I just—I can’t. I can’t lose her, Henry.”

“I know. I’ll be forever grateful for Dani,” Henry seemed to come around, “Let me ask. I doubt it’ll be easy, but the children are in college and I have way too much spare time.”

“College?” Jamie wanted to puke, “Blimey.”

“You and me both,” Henry sighed, “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Did he want you to leave him alone?” Dani walked over to her wife, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. If things were normal, she would be wrapping her arms around the small of Jamie’s back, surprising her with affection. Jamie knew it was hard for her to feel anymore, to feign the emotions once so strong. It wasn’t anything to do with them, it was all Viola.

“He said he’ll look into it,” Jamie spun to face her, hand warmly touching the other woman’s cheek, “Have you eaten today?”

“No,” Dani grimaced, “Not really hungry. I just feel kind of empty.”

“You’re still here, Poppins,” Jamie kissed her, “So, let me take care of you.”

“You always do,” Dani kissed her again, lips following the motions but without the intensity usually between their mouths, “Even when I don’t quite feel like myself.”

“You’re always you to me,” Jamie mused, then led her towards the couch.

The phone rang late in the evening, sounds reverberating through the walls. Dani jolted from her sleep, only to realize her hands were already forward, clenched fingers around a vague shape that could only resemble a neck. Jamie, trained to react to the night terrors and foreboding creatures lurking in the quiet of the night, immediately reached for her lover’s body, smoothing down her shoulders illuminated by the moon outside.

“Shh, shh,” she comforted, kissing her where the gown’s straps ended, “Let me get that.”

Dani was shaken, characteristic gasps and wailing, but Jamie needed to see who it was. She tripped over a slipper on the floor, cursing all the way, headed for the phone in the living room.

“Christ,” she almost hissed into the device, “Who is this?”

“My name doesn’t matter,” a male voice slithered in, “I’m calling on behalf of Henry Wingrave. He’s been calling around, looking for someone who could perform an exorcism on a girl that’s not really possessed. I’m interested, curious, you could say.”

 _Perfect_. _Now to make sure he’s not a certified creep,_

“This is her wife,” Jamie straightened, the very word still giving her butterflies, “Did Henry tell ya anything? It’s quite a story. A ghost story, love story, same thing. Either way, there’s a bitch in my wife that I want out. She’s not a demon, but she might as well be one.”

“Let’s meet to talk. You, me, and her. Where are you?”

Jamie gave the address of their flower shop, The Leafling, and thankfully the priest was only a couple of hours out in the next state. By the time they’d meet, Owen would be on a plane to be there for support. She didn’t invite Henry. The man was probably too busy and probably preferred to stay away from anything resembling Bly Manor. When Jamie came back to bed, Dani was sitting there upright, staring into space. Her gaze was empty, bordering on despondent.

“Poppins,” Jamie craned Dani’s face towards hers, “Tomorrow, you and I are going to see someone who might be able to help. He’s gonna come to us, and we can grab tea, yeah?” She kisses a cheek devoid of true warmth.

“Okay,” Dani wills a weak smile back, “I love you. I’m sorry. I’m just scared. It’s worse at night, like I’m supposed to get up and walk around, down the stairs to the alley outside expecting a lake. I catch myself waving to her in the reflections now, hoping she’ll soften up and not take me the next time I close my eyes. Or take you when I’m sleeping, but she’s awake.”

Jamie tries not to cry, she really does. It’s so fucking _hard_. Seeing the person you love most in the world slowly fade away reminds her of Owen’s mum losing sentience due to dementia or how depression might feel in the cold absence of Dani someday. She promises her she’d feel everything for them, but sensing for two is more than she can handle; then, Jamie catches herself. Dani is always feeling for two, inviting a spirit into the curvature of her body, Viola nestling in the crook of her neck, kissing where Jamie should be. Evil, spiteful bite marks instead of blood vessels playfully tugged by teeth as the rain falls outside.

“That won’t happen,” Jamie _does_ cry, she cannot help it, “This is gonna work, my love.”

“I hope you’re right,” Dani’s mind is fraying, wires barely connecting, “C-can you hold me? I don’t want to sleep anymore. I just want to remember what it’s like to have you close to me before I forget entirely.”

“I’ll always be here,” Jamie is talking to herself at this point, praying even though she barely believes anymore. She knows she believes in the power of the sky to rain on a garden, petals splayed with water drops, or maybe the fact that another woman hides behind Dani’s eyes. A coward who only emerges to show a twisted rage, one based on personal grievances. Jamie would haunt Dani if need be, filling awkward silences with the touch of a ringed finger.

Neither of them slept, restlessly turning. More than a handful of times, Dani would heave, choking on air and sobs from long ago caught in the back of her throat. She’d look for Jamie, panicking, frantic. Then, Jamie would kiss her, smooth a hand down the long tresses of blonde hair, easing them back to their respective midnight prisons of silence.

The morning only made Jamie wish tea had the potency of coffee. Drink enough of it, yeah, but get no sleep and crushed up bean water sounds much more inviting. Dani was shite at making it, though, so they only turned to tea when Jamie made it. The other never got the hang of either, over the years somehow making brewing a pot of leaves into a mysterious potion that could never quite be figured out. As the kettle reached its boiling point, whistling a tune akin to the shrill shrieks of ghouls, Jamie remembered to check on Dani in the bathroom, only to see her favorite person soullessly eyeing the mirror on the wall.

“Dani,” Jamie fought the urge to snap her fingers, instead ignoring the screaming liquid from around the corner, “Don’t look. Stop.” She was just standing there, frozen still. Suddenly, with a deep, surprised puff of air, a startled Dani faced her lover.

“The kettle!” She piped, and Jamie’s fear went to immeasurable panic as she ran back to the stove. However, Dani was with her, a slight spring in her step and upturned corner to her lips. “And you told me that _I_ couldn’t make tea. If you burn the house down, I don’t think Viola would be very happy.”

 _Atta girl_ , Jamie thought. _Fight that Gothic hag of yours_. She missed Dani’s smile. Unintentionally, she brought it out, even if she almost exploded the place they called home.

“Today’s gonna be a good day,” Jamie laughed, pouring the tea, “Promise.”

“I’ll try to keep you company,” Dani nudged her before she slipped away again, overtaken by the looming specter of Viola’s presence. They didn’t even get to link their pinkies before the moment flew off into the breeze.

Jamie was flitting around the flower shop, barely paying attention. Her mind was on the buds and blossoms, watering and tending them with nourishing drinks from the watering can. Over the fronds of a plant, she watched Dani, sitting idly at the counter. Thankfully, it was a slow Monday. They could close up early and head to the café down the street to discuss details. Jamie understood ghosts somewhat, but didn't really know what to expect from the whole ordeal. Who was this guy anyway? She pictured an elderly man, gray hair and proper. She wasn't too comfortable with men she didn't know, but Jamie was willing to give it a shot for love. There's no way it would be easy.

Hours had been spent flipping through pages of the book she loaned, reading the fine print and wondering how bad it would truly get. The pages detailed sharp-tongued, Latin-speaking demons from beyond who enjoyed tormenting their hosts. In one case, the young girl had to be physically restrained with ropes, prevented from lashing out at the others in the room. She foamed at the mouth and threatened some colorful language towards everyone nearby. Jamie, again who knew that heaven, hell and purgatory existed but gave up God when her family got separated, wanted to clasp her hands together nonetheless.

A jingle of the door caught both of their attention, the bell sounding as twinkles of light came through the entrance. Jamie was expecting an older, disillusioned man; in front of her was someone who looked curiously like an older Peter Quint, yet much softer around the edges. Out of pure, unadulterated habit, Jamie almost raised the pot she was holding as a weapon when seeing a man resemble the slimy, manipulative asshole that was her former employer’s assistant. You know, the guy who had murdered one of her best friends and forced another to kill herself. There might have been a grudge there, embedded between the ghost stories.

“I’m looking for Jamie,” the man said, and thankfully he was _not_ Scottish, but American.

“That’s me,” she stepped forward, grip on the rim of a sunflower’s vase loosened, “Are you the man performing the exorcism?”

“Woah,” he waved his hands, “I’d like to meet the young lady first.”  
“I’m an adult,” Dani leaned over the counter, “Can you _really_ get ghosts out of people?” She was right to be a little dubious, even from her background in Bly. Exorcisms happened in movies or by shoddy priests to mentally ill girls, and usually rid the body of demons. Viola wasn’t a demon. She could be a little demonic, sure, but for good reason. If you spent your entire afterlife waiting for your daughter to open the chest you could never escape otherwise, only to get thrown into a lake to be forgotten about, you’d be a bit pissed, too. That shouldn’t have been Dani’s cross to bear for the rest of her life, though.

“The Church says I can,” Father _Whatever_ said, Jamie already forgot. She thinks he told her. Men don’t really register in her mind as anything more than a nuisance. Except for Owen, maybe Miles on a good day, and Henry is just. There. She misses the Wingrave parents dearly, because Dominic treated her like a fully-fledged person. Not-Peter-Quint had a glint to his eyes that beckoned a sense of _maybe trust me, you have no other choice_ that intrigued her deeply. If anyone could get the Victorian woman out of her wife, it was the man who looked like the one who stared down Hell himself. For a moment, though, he didn’t look anything like him. His nose was more narrow, hair much longer, cheeks rounder. It’s like he channeled faces on command.

“Ghosts, you mean,” Jamie went to lock the door, ignoring her anxiety and walking past the priest to meet Dani at the counter for support, “You’ve vacated a ghost, not just a demon?”

“Just a demon,” he almost rolled his eyes, “Those are far worse. I’ve actually never performed one on a ghost, because people don’t usually have ghosts inside of them. Henry told me a bit about your predicament after we talked through a friend of a friend, but you’ll have to give me the full picture about Viola. Curses are a tricky thing.”

“It’s a long story,” Jamie was sick of telling the tale in her head, but she hadn’t actually verbalized how the traumatizing events unfolded with the exception of conversations with Dani. She couldn’t remember bringing up the star of the haunting, Bly’s fair maiden or a curse. Maybe priests just had supernatural sixth senses.

“I can tell it,” Dani decided, “Sit down and let’s talk. Jamie will put on a pot of her famous British tea. Hate to say, but I’m not really interested in going to a café with a lot of other people right now,” she rubbed her arms to generate warmth. Dani gave Jamie a look that she didn’t even have to question, as it was unequivocally _she’s even stronger now and If I see my reflection in the door, I might forget who I am._ It was one she shared often now, as Dani disappeared and Viola gained strength.

Jamie kissed her, forgetting that a priest was watching. Like the others in their life, though, they failed to bat an eye. There was a small victory dance in the back as the tea brewed that only stopped to carry cups in the direction of the other two people at The Leafling that afternoon. Dani omitted some details, glossing over the many times they kissed in the halls or sat outside in the garden. She kept insisting it was a love story, reaching for Jamie’s hands, catching her feelings right in her throat where they mixed with a lingering sense of anxiety. This could go very good or very bad. The parts Jamie had lesser clarity about, such as the complexities of Viola’s anger, came into focus.

“Here’s the thing,” he began after listening, “The goal is to lay this woman’s soul to rest, rather than keep her in the purgatory of your body. Where does she go when we release her? Does she go back to Bly and start all over again? Or does she finally go to Heaven? We want her freed, is all.”

“See, that’s what I’m worried about,” Dani almost shrank down, shutting herself off from any prolonged chance at happiness, “I’m ready to accept it whenever the time is. I have a plan. She won’t ever hurt anyone again.”

“What about you, Poppins?” Jamie felt frustrated, “You never consider yourself. We’ve been taking it one day at a time and we’ve been so, so happy. What if we could grow old together, drinking wine until we’re grey and getting actually married when the time comes.”

“It’s not about me,” Dani was getting visibly upset, “It’s about everyone else. Hannah and Rebecca. They would’ve died for no reason. Miles and Flora, they don’t remember anything, and that’s good for them. They don’t have to live in the shadow of their childhoods. Even if they don’t know who I am, that’s okay. I saved Flora because when I did that, she _did_ know me. That’s what matters to me.”

Jamie’s worlds grew dimmer for a moment. Was she being selfish? She wanted Dani so badly to stay, she hardly considered whether it was for the best. Dani would need to go back to Bly, most likely, to see if Viola rose from the lake to walk. She might forget, finally at peace, but Dani wouldn’t know until her eyes, now blue again, stared down the murky depths for the last time. Jamie knew her “plan” meant having to give up everything, life and love. It was the reason she felt for Dani in the early morning, wondering if she’d still be there when the sun came up.

“Dani,” Jamie lost her luminosity, spirit growing foggy, “We’re only doing this if you absolutely want to.”

“If I may interject,” the priest coughed, “I think, as long as you have people who love you there, the exorcism will go fine. People who will make you remember who you are and who bind you, not the other presence inside you, to this realm. I don’t even have to get approval from the Church, because if they looked into things...let’s just say they’re not very ‘modern’ when it comes to relationships. But I have done this before. Ghosts and demons are not too different. They both stay too long, clinging to what’s familiar. She has a disdain for humans that makes her seem almost exactly like a creature not from this world.”

Dani eventually met Jamie’s eyes, both getting teary. They held hands across the table, right in front of the stranger who’d hopefully save them from separate lives devoid of the other’s touch.

“I’m willing to try,” Dani finalized, squeezing her lover’s hand, “But like you said. Anything goes south and we stop.”

“We’ll stop,” Jamie meant it this time. She had to.

By the time Owen had landed in America the next day, fresh from the patisseries of France and worn from the jetlag, he was already making dad jokes that culminated in a series of loving yet expectant eye rolls.

“See, if I come in then go,” he passed the threshold of the flower shop, then went out again, “I could say goodbye, my friends. I’m _leave-ling_.”

Dani groaned, but she was happy to be reunited with him. Jamie seemed enthralled too, playfully punching Owen in the arm for his punny ways.

“How long are you staying?” Dani leaned on her hands, “Will they be okay without you?”

“I’ll stay long as you guys need me to,” he stretched, inadvertently hitting the outstretched arm of a leafy plant in the process, “Now, where’s this priest fellow? Gotta make sure he’s not one of _those_ priests.”

“Guy looks like fuckin’ Peter Quint,” Jamie whispered, unsure why she was doing so in a lonely shop of three people, “It’s weird. Like we’re being haunted from beyond the grave.”

Dani coughed. She also couldn’t see the similarities. To her, the priest looked like a man from a memory, cloudy and monochrome. Peter was more glamorous, a rogue handsome fellow with a dark history. This person wished he had the tall, brazen appeal of a Peter Quint. Instead, he was meek, almost apologetic every time Dani’s eyes met his.

“I mean, we are being haunted from beyond the grave,” Jamie flushed.

Owen, relieved to be with old friends but stuck in a perpetual state of _I wish Hannah was here_ , noticed the man walking down the street towards The Leafling. He had a purple stole around his neck and a Bible in hand. When he nudged Jamie, getting her attention, the woman almost felt like she needed to go to confession. The royal color was usually only bestowed to religious officials talking to people through a dividing screen in church, the conversation allegedly overseen by higher powers who’d hear sins ranging from adultery to stealing. Purple was also routinely worn for exorcisms. She thought that he could have walked out of the movies Dani rented on the subject years before, a stoic figure intending to quell the spirits from their immeasurable pain.

“I’m moving so I don’t instinctually punch him in the face,” Owen cautioned, standing behind the women instead of right by the door. The priest pushed the wooden fixture open, giving a small wave in the process.

“Hi,” Jamie tried to stand taller, “Father Whatever, this is Owen. He’s from fancy pants France to help us out as an old friend.”

“The more the merrier,” the other tugged at his collar, the white against a black robe, “Now, I thought it would be for the best if we picked a neutral space for this. We might not get around to the bulk of it tonight, but I put in a good word with the priest in town to use their basement for the next couple of nights. Sound alright?”

“Better than our apartment, I guess,” Dani tried to appear happy, terrified on the inside.

“Let’s get to it, Poppins,” Jamie linked arms with her wife, trying to be supportive. Owen, always a charmer, quirked a real smile in response. He loved these two, and made a mental note to buy some wine for the eventual victory dinner. There was no doubt in his mind that Dani would be rid of Viola. She’d resolved to living out her days with her, sure, but that could change. Those feelings weren’t verbalized. Instead, he swung a fist in the air, celebrating early.

“Ghostly encounters in a dingy basement with a random man that looks like our old enemy! What an absolute treat. Just like Bly Manor all over again.”

Jamie, Dani and him all secretly hoped that they didn’t lose anyone this time.

None of them had ever stepped foot at the nearby church. Jamie thought therapy was better for her than religion, a good discourse between professional and patient serving more purpose than a priest quoting scripture at them while giving the couple his best _are they gay_? glare. For Dani, it was a reminder that something sinister lurked within her, Viola practically sneering at the display of praise for a single deity. They’d ask questions about the different eye color, the long looks exchanged and insatiable sense of irritability that took over Dani when she entered the building. Dani from five years ago wasn’t this way, but Viola hadn’t believed in anything since sinking to the bottom of a lake many years ago, back when her face had its shape, cheekbones not yet worn from nights spent walking, forgetting, then doing it all over as if nothing had ever changed. Their priest, the savior of the expedition, spoke a few words to the man who looked like he was in charge before leading the trio (foursome if you count Viola) down to the lower area. The stairs were rickety, creaking with each step. Owen almost tripped.

“Health hazard,” he tried to lighten the atmosphere, except his thoughts always wondered when falling, or _pushing_ , came to mind.

“You’re not murdering us down here, are ya?” Jamie raised an eyebrow, “You’d be bloody awful at keeping it a secret. The whole congregation saw us and almost spit out their little communion biscuits.”

“Just here to do my duties,” the priest shrugged. He grabbed a chair, bringing it to the middle of the room. It was not nearly as dark or eerie as one would’ve guessed, instead lit by stained glass windows capturing the sunset. After they closed shop yesterday, Jamie spent the rest of her day pouring over the contents of the book she loaned, analyzing the text again from start to finish. A glass of wine in hand, she must have read the book more times than the author or editors had before they went to print. There were pages and pages of horrible rituals gone wrong, people dying as they rejected God in the face of demons; those were juxtaposed against serene tales where tormented souls found eventual peace. She prayed the same words would give her a new meaning, clutching the spine of the book for dear life as if it would spill secrets well beyond the wealth of knowledge already contained within the ink. The routine seemed simple on the surface, with a man reciting words from a work he believes could reverse otherworldly powers. She knows that the priest, his name might’ve been Arthur (she doesn’t really care for men much and their names are of little importance) will have to verify its a supernatural affliction Dani has rather than one of the mind. It still hurts, though, when he positions the chair for her favorite person and tells Owen and Jamie to stand back.

“I promise I wouldn’t make something like this up,” Dani batted her eyes, unintentionally looking beautiful when all she was trying to do was get rid of the budding tears about to take place in the corner ducts of her vision, “Really. You can ask Jamie or Owen. They were both there.”

To be fair, they were there, but came kind of late to the party. A woman, face askew, was dragging young Flora into the lake. Dani, exasperated from her own near-death experience, threw out cautionary words that bound her fate to the mysterious person. Suddenly, mysteries were in the past, all memories melded together from each human being combing their identities. Viola and Dani. One body holding two for the rest of eternity, or so it seemed.

Jamie hated that it had to go that way, her lover permanently affixed to a rotting corpse, their gravities in constant competition with each other as of late. Viola who was once a shadow now screamed on a building crescendo, about to sound in a pitch that made ears bleed and hearts shatter. _Peter_ — _no,_ Arthur could be the solution.

“I know,” he brushed her hair back, and Jamie bristled, “Just answer a couple of questions for me and we can try to start tonight if everything goes well.”

“Mhm, okay,” Dani appeared confused, “What are you looking at?”

“Uh...your eye,” Arthur straightened, “That’s her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Jamie sounded from behind them despite not being the one being asked the question, “Turned red the minute Viola snuck in. Have you seen her today, love?”

Owen had made himself comfortable on a wooden crate near the wall next to a dusty closet. He watched the interactions like a referee, carefully observing to keep them on the right track.

“Not since we covered the mirrors, no,” Dani bit her nails out of habit, “And I...uh...haven’t showered today. Didn’t want to see the water by the drain. I used to close my eyes when I washed my hands, but I’m so used to it now. It’s like looking in the mirror and seeing my own reflection.”

Jamie wanted to walk forward, to comfort her, but Arthur stuck his arm out.

“Do you think she’d appear if I put a mirror next to you now?” he asked. Dani weakly nodded. Owen realized he was actually in front of a sheet-covered, reflective surface, all eyes on him as Arthur whipped around to reveal the object hiding in plain sight.

“No, absolutely not,” Jamie could feel herself being protective, “You’re not gonna scare the shite out of my wife more than it takes to get this lady out of her. That won’t fly with me.”

Owen patted her shoulder as a comfort, not moving unless told to. Jamie was the boss.

“Jamie,” Dani pleaded, “It’s okay. He has to know if it’s real, if I’m telling the truth.”

“Who wouldn’t believe a story like this?” Owen scoffed. Every day he was reminded of the years at Bly, haunted by the people and its bleak history; it smacked him in the face when he walked into the restaurant _he_ owned, saw the portrait of the woman _he_ should’ve been with, and looked at the menu down at the dish spelling _her_ name.

“Fine,” Jamie backed down. She knew it was a little much, the showy bravado. But goddamn, did she love Dani more than anything in the world, and she would fight for her even if it meant swimming to the bottom of Bly’s lake to desecrate the waterlogged bones of Viola. _Fuck you and your treasure chest_ , she’d say. That wasn’t their reality, however. Hopefully not.

“Bring it over, please,” Arthur instructed, so Owen and Jamie lugged the mirror in front of Dani, still covered by the dusty blanket. “Tell me when you’re ready, Miss Clayton.”

A glimmer of the past danced in her façade, then eased, “...Ready.”

When he pulled the fabric away, bracing for impact, nothing drastic occurred. Dani from years ago may have winced, screamed, or shook in terror. Dani Clayton of the present merely accepted her fate staring back, ghostly figure alongside the woman’s shrinking frame. Her wife and friend came around to peer, their curiosity for the priest’s reaction piqued.

His mouth just formed a straight line.

“She’s definitely angry,” he sighed, “I’d hate to be her husband. Cover it again.”

“You can see something?” Jamie asked, incredulous. Owen moved the mirror away.

“It’s Viola,” Arthur reasoned, “Clear as day. Dani, I think I can give her peace.”

Hope overcame her face. Jamie wants to capture how she appears, the emotions a feature the months have tried to forcefully erode.

“Before you do that,” the wife on defense stuck her hands down her pockets, “Aren’t there some kind of rites you have to perform? Some religion she has to be a part of? And are you sure there isn’t a person above you that needs to sign off on this potentially dangerous exorcism?”

“I have to say that I’m also a bit skeptic,” Owen adds.

Arthur, looking tired all of a sudden, turned to address his doubters.

“Here’s the thing,” he is less of a Peter Quint and more of a nobody in demeanor, preaching to no one in particular, “Dani’s a little different. If she were a Catholic, I’d be doing things the traditional way. Contact those above me, get the okay from them. I’ve done those in my time, but I also advertise my services to those who don’t exactly get attention from the church. That could be people of other religions, other social classes or those seen as ‘deviant’ within the religious literature of the Bible. I, however, am _not_ a prejudiced man. I’ve done exorcisms for anyone and everyone. That’s not the thing that concerns me. Granted, I haven’t kicked a ghost out from a body before, but demons and devils are all the same. They don’t discriminate based on church or god. You could call my second wife a demon and my first a ghost. You are forced to live among them, or in your case, you invited yours in. Never seen that before. I’m going to talk to Viola and use a couple of the same tactics with a special trick up my sleeve. Just have to trust me, is all.”

 _Wow_ , Jamie thought. _A talker and a misogynist_. He seemed convincing enough. Dani nodded fervently to show her wife that everything satisfied her, the conditions understandable.

“What’s the special trick?” Owen asked.

“You’ll have to see,” Arthur remarked, effortlessly smooth. It was quite like Peter or perhaps reminiscent of a man commanding the home, Bly Manor his dwelling and residence.

“Do your magic,” Jamie gave her wife a kiss, a welcome warmth before the ensuing chaos. Owen gave a thumbs up. The priest took out a vial of holy water and his copy of the Bible.

“Going to give you all some for safety,” he explained, flicking drops on a reluctant Jamie and Owen, who didn’t want the leather interior of his jacket ruined, “Dani, I want you to tell me that you’re ready. I want you to try to remember who you are.”

“O-okay,” she accepted, bracing herself for the holy water. It may do nothing, but none of them were sure how ghosts reacted. A malevolent spirit might despise the sacred liquid of Catholicism, unaware of the differences between them and the demons straight from below. Arthur opened his palm, flexing the water towards Dani in a restrained manner. She cursed under her breath. “Viola doesn’t like that,” her voice lowered, “But she’s taunting you, saying that she practically lived in the water, and your efforts to follow a God that has forsaken humanity as a whole are futile.”

“She’s speaking to you?” Arthur questioned, clutching the book to his chest.

“Not actual words,” Dani started to squirm in the chair, visibly uncomfortable, “She doesn’t have to. I feel all of her feelings. I may have released her from being the Lady in the Lake, but she’s still inside, gnawing at my conscience. She wants to make me her.”

“Well, don’t let her do that,” Jamie balled her fists, “Keep goin’ Arthur.”

“Very well,” he flipped over to an indexed page, thumb on the inked scrawl, “Viola Lloyd, I command you to leave Dani Clayton. Depart from this vessel and find eternal solitude with your family. Her soul is fine without you.”

A snicker came from Dani, causing Jamie to twitch. It wasn’t her. The priest made the motions of the cross in front of himself, then right against Dani’s face. A hissing sound emanated inside the woman, suddenly imposing in the basement of the church.

“Religion...” her pleasant demeanor gave way to wickedness, “How foolish of man to think that these little books can talk to what’s above. God isn’t real. Man is indignant, vexing. _That_ lasts forever.”

Jamie trembled. She failed to be as scared as when she was back at Bly, having seen plenty of tragedy and despair unfold right in front of her before, but her desire to pull who should’ve been Dani close was making her body ache.

“Begone,” Arthur repeated his wishes, starting to speak from the Bible, “You are not welcome here. May God smile on you as you rejected his last rites. We can save your soul, Viola. You just have to want it saved.”

“I laugh at your pathetic god,” Viola boomed through Dani, octaves deeper, “She gave herself to me, you fool. We are one. Instead of waking, sleeping and forgetting, I live again. Walking. Sleeping. _Never_ forgetting. I will never forget what my family did to me.”

“But she freed you, Viola,” Jamie stood her ground, “So, why are you still here?”

“She’s becoming the Lady in the Lake,” the spirit snickered, “I am but a piece of Viola that burns deep, watching your beloved in the mirror to remind her that she has to leave one day. Dani has to pay for her sacrifice.”

“That’s not fair,” Owen instinctively put a protective arm over Jamie, “She saved you, and this is how you repay her?”

“My anger lives on in place of me,” Viola shrugs, Dani’s shoulders mimicking the actions, “And I have stayed dormant for too long. Let me out and let me take whoever stands in my path down with me.”

Jamie was pissed, but against her wishes, she teared up in frustration. The sheer unfairness of the situation caused burning under her fingertips, lingering ripples of electric currents. Dani seemed to think that taking Viola inside her would have been the end to it all. Viola, done with walking for eons, should have been grateful for the shelter. Instead, her convictions aimed to turn the au pair black and weakened from the inside out, slowly chiseling at the woman’s body until finally pleased by the results. 

“Dani, come back to me,” Jamie cried, holding her tightly, “I’m here.”

The other’ eyes instead turned ghastly red and she screamed.

“I cast you out, Viola, to be with your family in Heaven. If not your husband, then your daughter,” Arthur commanded, raising his voice, “What Perdita did was wrong. You had your revenge. What is the point in walking, sleeping and forgetting if your idea of ‘thanking’ this woman for giving you a living form again is to make sure she befalls the same fate?”

A laugh echoed from Dani, not of this earth and entirely Viola.

“This is my chance to be reborn,” the woman grinned, “You didn’t know that the day after you planned this all out, Jamie, that she was going to try to kill you? My anger consumed her and it scared her. She was going to drown herself in that lake to save you,” she shook her head sinisterly, “Pathetic.”

“You’re hurt because the people who you loved abandoned you, Viola,” Owen yelled, “But you cannot take it out on Dani. Your daughter is waiting for you in heaven with all of the dresses and jewels you can imagine. Go to her.”

“Yes,” Arthur sounded, as Jamie kept her face close to Dani’s, not caring if she got hurt. _Love versus possession_ , she thought. She would triumph over the angsty spirit. Arthur cleared his throat, then unsheathed more holy water to propel towards the body. “Viola, your sickness would be cured today, and you could have been with your family in life. Go to them.”

“I have no Latin or use for your silly little trinkets,” Dani’s eyes were crying, the owner of the tears unknown, “I am not a demon or the devil. I am Dani and she is me. The time is now.”

“Fight her,” Jamie hushed, grabbing her hands. She wanted to imbue them with hope.

“You should be grateful for her, Viola,” Arthur shook his head, “She saved you. What would your daughter think? All the ghosts you trapped in your orbit, all of the lives lost because of deep-flowing pain. I’m here because you _know_ you want to leave.”

“I will not go,” Viola spoke flatly, “Isabel does not want me.”

“She does,” Arthur challenged, “Listen.”

Jamie hadn’t noticed her sobs either, too busy listening for Dani’s heartbeat and only hearing the thump, thump thump of too many people in the body of her favorite person. Owen was holding Dani down, as she had started to shake, anger building up in her fists.

Arthur snapped his fingers.

“ _Mother_ ,” a younger voice came through, haunting in its stillness, “ _You have taken so many in your fight to find me_.” Instead of the deeper American accent, a little girl’s British inflection came from the priest’s mouth, eyes remaining closed.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Jamie leaned her forehead against Dani’s, believing in miracles at this point. They’d seen too much in one lifetime. For once, she wanted to enjoy the little things. Now, a priest was channeling the spirit of a dead woman’s daughter to command her to leave.

“Stop,” Viola halted, “Don’t use her voice. I know who you are. You can’t trick me.”

“ _It’s me_ ,” Arthur insisted, “ _Isabel_.” Owen kept his grip strong on her shoulders while Jamie’s knuckles turned white from holding her hands. Dani’s eyes flashed open, cerulean instead of crimson, flecked with longing wishes. The atmosphere was swallowed up, balance regained for a moment. Her tension subsided, flexing digits under the press of Jamie’s palm.

“Viola,” Dani came through, not Viola, not hatred but love. “I won’t let your anger keep me in your gravity,” Dani’s tone cut through the storm. “You’ve let me love my wife and live my life. It’s time for you to go.”

“That’s it, Poppins,” Jamie nodded, lips breaking out into beams of light.

“I’m braver than you,” Dani meant every word. She was right, and they all knew it. Viola let her cowardice govern her afterlife, not wanting to leave out of petty desire, an everlasting itch to be blindsided by fate. The priest grabbed something from his pocket, not broken from his trance.

“ _If I am not Isabel, Viola, then why do I have a jewel of yours?_ ”

Dani’s head snapped back up, a distinct crick of the neck making Jamie and Owen flinch. In Arthur’s hand was a shining gemstone, the color effervescent.  
“Where’d you get that?” Viola’s words dripped with both awe and malice.

“ _These are yours, mother. The rest of them are with me_ ,” Arthur stated. None of them could tell if he had any semblance of truth in his words. The only aspect which mattered was that the ghostly woman believed...and she did, perhaps out of a scathing desire for peace. Sick of walking, sick of running, the lady of Bly Manor just wanted to feel loved. It didn’t quite appeal to her, emotions rubbed raw by the exorcism, that Isabel might not enjoy her companionship. She was sick of seeing Dani loved from the top to the bottom by Jamie, their romance making her impossibly jealous. Her favorite people had deserted her to a watery second death, yet she craved their attention so.

“I don’t want to go back to the lake,” Viola faded, momentarily replaced by Dani.

“Jamie,” she echoed, then went back to the other’s Victorian timbre. Jamie grasped for the traces of her wife, finding a battle inside the woman she adored.

“Don’t go back to the lake, move on,” Owen shouted, “Forget the pain.”

“Pain...” Viola sighed, “Pain has no face. My dear, sweet Isabel. I should leave now. I want to be with you. Tell your father I hope his soul will be elsewhere with that scoundrel sister of mine.”

“Go,” Jamie begged, “Dani, come back to me. Poppins, I need you to wake up.”

“ _Join me,_ ” Arthur said as Isabel before opening his eyes and reciting additional passages from the Bible. He raised his hand, getting exponentially louder, and threw the jewel over to Dani, who caught it as Viola, passion burning. “Viola Lloyd, the Lady of the Lake, I cast you out from Dani Clayton. Let your soul forever be at peace!”

Still weary, thinly attached to pain, Viola let loose a final antagonistic cackle that caused Jamie to break away. Searching, she thought Viola had changed her mind, bitter over her marriage and murder but dedicated to the daughter she never saw grow up. She waned, vanishing.

“You know...” Viola rumbled, ready for her last demise, “I forget even now why I’m _really_ angry.” With that, the luminous stone fell to the floor, Dani slumping back down in the chair. Owen, fearing the worst, immediately felt for her pulse as Jamie leapt to her feet. _._

_You have to be there. Deep down. I know it._

“She’s there,” he confirmed, bewildered. Dani, equally dazed, opened her tired lids from their formerly closed state in short bursts of blinks. Reality set in.

“Dani?” Jamie searched, arms naturally gravitating to her torso. “It’s me,” Jamie had each hand on Dani’s cheeks, voice low so only they could hear. _Please_ , she screamed inside her head.

“It’s you,” the gardener realized Dani’s eyes were blue, spilling tears like waterfalls, nose getting snotty in the way only she could make adorable.

“It’s us, Poppins,” Jamie smiled, inciting a giggle from the other, “You fucking did it.”

The light streaming through the stained glass windows in shades of maroons and yellows colored their kisses, bringing them closer as they basked in the glow. Owen, who had moved to let them have their intimate moment, gave a big bear hug to the two women at once. Arthur, back to himself, picked up the forgotten stone to pocket it once more.

“That’s not really hers, is it?” Owen asked, noticing the reclaimed property, “You just tricked her? And that whole voice thing was a little gimmick?”

“I’m more of an enigma than you think,” he stated, confusing everyone until they realized how little importance his words held. They were okay. Viola was gone, essentially given up.

“You don’t really think she went to a better place, right?” Dani got up, still weak and frail. Jamie supported her with an outstretched arm, her own overalls coming slightly undone from the draining event. A shower would be nice, she thinks. Dani didn’t exorcise Viola through her mouth, but they smell like old church and sleepless nights.

“She killed people, yes, but at the core of it, she was just lonely,” Arthur removed his purple stole, rubbing his hands together, “Who knows.”

“Thank you, mate,” Jamie went to hug him from her right side, the left occupied by Dani, “We can’t thank you enough. Let us take you to dinner or something. I really didn’t think you had it in ya. If only you were at Bly with us.”

“It’s no problem, really. I have a connection to this one that makes it all worth it,” he awkwardly reciprocated, and Owen raised an eyebrow before coming in to make one final Bly Manor sandwich for the day. In the middle of their group’s _I can’t believe we survived ghosts again_ moment of rejoicing, Dani’s stomach grumbled, causing them to break the hold.

“I’m a little hungry,” Dani laughed, still tired, “That took a lot out of me. Something tells me I’m going to sleep for twelve hours just to make up for the lost nights struggling with Viola in my dreams.”

“There will be other nights,” Jamie teased, “Let’s go get you whatever you want, Poppins. That way we don’t have to entertain our shite cooking and you can turn in early.”

“May I suggest I cook for you in the comfort of your own apartment?” Owen grinned, “You girls need a homemade meal. I have to be fair, though. I can’t _exorcise_ restraint in the kitchen. You’re going to have plenty of leftovers.”

Jamie groaned, and Dani almost chimed like a bell, her overflowing joy replacing the fear and exhaustion she’d been harboring for months, years, what felt like a decade or her whole life. Arthur was quiet in the background, fussing with his robes.

“I love you,” Jamie whispered in her lover’s ears, as she pulled her along to the stairs. They were giggling like teenagers, feeling the world become more gentle in return, as if they forgot about the men in the room.

“Coming, Father Ghostbuster?” Owen extended the invitation.

“No thank you,” he declined, “I’ll walk you all out.” A few hours had passed, the church now empty, its former occupants unaware of the debacle going on in the basement next to abandoned religious artifacts and storage material. The pews were devoid of life, only with candles lit by the front. Owen thought of Hannah. He always did.

“Jamie, you can start showing Owen back to the apartment,” Dani motioned, giving an _I’m fine_ look that Jamie interpreted rather easily, “I’d just like to talk to Arthur a bit more.” She couldn’t tell why exactly, but she knew when Dani needed space, a little privacy in the evening air of their cozy little Vermont town. Jamie shook the priest’s hand, as did Owen. She cocked her head to the side as to let Owen know to follow her without much protest. As they kept their distance, Dani turned to Arthur, ready to express her gratitude, but found herself confused at what transpired. In a flash of something indiscernible, the priest’s face blurred, then reset to a man she, at first glance, almost did not recognize. From a stroke of Peter’s hardened expression, a softer one emerged. The change made sense, a shift in the paradigm, an enigma now with a real identity. He appeared different to everyone because he simply was a ghost.

 _Arthur_ , Dani is struck by the name, familiar but distant, as if a figment of Viola.

She doesn’t get to thank him properly. He’s gone in the blink of a sapphire eye.

A couple days later, fresh from the shower and directly facing the mirror, Dani smiles. Jamie decides, as she brushes her lover’s hair, to call Henry Wingrave and thank him for sending the priest their way. It’s the least she could muster for the connection. His response is abrupt.

“What do you mean?”

“Thank you for ‘blessing’ us with Arthur,” Jamie smirks, resolved. Silly little businessman with his inconsequential way of viewing things.

“No, I mean...who is Arthur?”

Jamie is utterly confused at the exchange. She’s sweating, a bit disturbed.

“The damn priest we talked about,” Jamie bit her lip. Leave it Henry to forget already, dealing with so many people in his life that an American who can exorcise demons, and now ghosts, goes swiftly under the radar.

“Jamie,” Henry is a little tense on the other end, “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m sorry for leaving you hanging. I’ve been looking everywhere with no success.”

She drops the phone, the cord dangling precariously. Dani, usually the one afraid of noises and old connections, comes over at the sound to see what’s wrong. Jamie looks back at her wife, then gulps.

“No problem, not a problem,” she rushes, almost slurring her words, “It’s all fixed. All solved. Tell the kids we said hi and if they don’t remember us, I’m gonna show up at their weddings to haunt them like a bastard.” Jamie hangs up, not waiting for a reply.

Dani kisses her. She knows. She’s _known_ , Jamie isn’t sure since when, but before the former gardener embarrassed herself on a phone call with her old boss. The ends justify the means, the woman thinks, kissing more until their tongues elicit laughs through their kisses in the lapses where moans will surely fill soon.

The ghost inside is gone. In her place is the brave, sensitive being known as Dani, all herself and inviting them to years down the line, many nights and early mornings. Jamie takes the incentive. She stops their embrace, quiets their lips from the dance to cradle Dani’s face.

“I love you, my moonflower,” Jamie says, to Dani and only Dani.

“I love you too,” Dani replies, and the au pair is sure the feelings are from deep within.

They show up hand-in-hand at Flora’s wedding, rings shiny from their own celebration.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe the real ghosts were the friends we made along the way. Fellas, is it weird to come back from the dead to get the evil woman out of your local lesbian? Thank you for reading!


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